The Long Haul of SixtyFour Excaliburs
by Silver Sniper
Summary: Honestly, does one really need ninety nine short swords and sixty four Excaliburs in their inventory? Marche certainly seems to think so, but he's not the one carrying all of this around Ivalice.


Final Fantasy Tactics Advance © Square-Enix

Finally a tribute to the category that got me into this site.

* * *

The Long Haul of Sixty-Four Excaliburs

* * *

When one passed through Lutia Pass, they may see many things. Flowers were one of the common items, usually white and tiny in the bloom. Patches of Gysahl Greens weren't uncommon either near the bottom, and snow was often another common sight in the Pass. Clan Nutsy marching up the Pass in a singular line with three tons worth of equipment on their backs was _not_. 

"Come on guys, we're almost there!" A jubilant and entirely too carefree Marche was at the head of the line, wistfully striding up the used path with a smile. The rest of his clan weren't as gung-ho as the blonde was. They were the complete opposite of the happy boy— long faces dotted with perspiration despite the rather gelid climate and their bodies soar, tired, and in dire need of a well deserved break. It was a break that was unlikely to be granted to them, but one moogle did try to persuade the boy.

"M-Marche, how about a quick rest, kupo?" Montblanc pleaded as he gave effort to lug two hemp bags full of headgear over a small bump in the road. "Just ten or fifteen minutes, kupo."

A murmur of agreement came from his clan members, but Marche appeared oblivious to the groans and moans of complaint. Instead, the face that whirled towards them wasn't that of sympathy or pitying, but complete shock and surprise. One may think that Montblanc might've suggested that Marche be dismissed from the clan by the way the boy wore his expression.

"But we're only twenty minutes at most from the top!" Marche reasoned, pointing to the distant summit that didn't seem to be getting any closer during the past three minutes. If anything, it seemed to be taunting them and appearing further and further away.

"And I'm twenty minutes away from permanently damaging my spine," a human clan member complained with no sarcasm tagged on. More mutterings of agreement came from the rest of the clan as they decided to veto Marche's request and planted themselves down to the ground without another word, too tired to comment and too sore to move anything besides their lungs.

"Come on guys!" Marche pleaded. "We didn't have a problem scaling this thing before."

"Yeah, but that'sss before we ssstarted carrying thessse sssacksss of junk," a bangaa pointed out admits his fortress of weapons in assorted carrying bags.

"We don't have _that_ many things, do we?" Marche asked innocently, apparently blind to the mounds and mounds of sacks his clan members had deposited beside themselves.

"Depends on the 'things'," a viera remarked. "I'm only carrying the clothing and robes, but I estimate there's about seventy units on assorted clothing and fifty-six of robes, and none of them are being used."

"And I'm hauling all of the accessories," a nu mou picked up, "but I can safely say none of them are being used as well, as well as a high possibility that none of them will ever be."

"But you never know!" Marche pointed out.

"Marche, honestly," the human hunter said, "I don't think we'll really be needing ninety-nine short swords in upcoming battles."

"Or ssseventy-ssseven Murasssamesss," the bangaa added.

"Nor eighty-nine force rods," the nu mou tacked on.

"And definitely not sixty-four Excalibers, kupo!" Montblanc cried in vain.

"But what about you? You're a ninja, so you could throw these things, right?" Marche asked, gesturing towards a gasping ninja.

"I do more damage with my double-sword that throwing those pieces of junk, though I should start doing it to lighten the load, shouldn't I?" the ninja replied sarcastically. Little did he know it sent a spark of inspiration to the rest of the clan.

"That's not a bad idea," the viera commented, ears perking up and eyes shining with newfound enlightenment.

"No, it isssn't," the bangaa hissed.

"We should," the hunter agreed as well.

"And why not, kupo?" Montblanc began with a sadistic grin that was very unlike the Moogle. "On the count of three, kupo!"

"One…"

"Huh? Wait, what are you guys doing? Why are all of you heading towards the cliff with the equipment?"

"Two…"

"What? No, you guys couldn't…!"

"Three!"

"NO!"

* * *

"Hey! Shara! Look what I found!" 

"What's that, Ritz?"

"Fortune rings, and a bunch of other stuff, too! We can get a load of gil if we sell them!"

"And where did you find this stuff?"

"Oh, it was just lying here, and… hey! Look at all those Excaliburs! Honestly, whoever threw all these down here must be stupid."

"I say the one who had the mind to collect all of those is stupid. I wonder who really would, though, I mean, surely not Marche."

"No, surely not."


End file.
